Sep 242017
 

You know how some people love doing nothing on their days off? I’m not one of them BUT HENRY IS.

Shocking, I know.

We kept our Riot Fest days off (Thursday-Monday) and figured we’d just use the time to get stuff done around the house.

NOTHING GOT DONE AROUND THE HOUSE.

Here are some bulletpoints to illustrate just how boring my time off of work was. (I even threatened to go back to work on Monday because Henry was just flat out entertaining me.)

  • I renewed my drivers license! Yeah, staycation was off to a great start. Usually I’m alone when this occurs but this time Henry had the pleasure of accompanying me to AAA and watching in mild disdain as I sat, holding my #10 ticket, feet tapping maniacally out of rampant nerves. Every time the next number would get called, I’d moan, “OH MY GOD, IT’S SO CLOSE TO MY TURN. OH, MY STOMACH HURTS. OH, I’M GOING TO PUKE. OH, I’M GOING TO PASS OUT.” Henry was like, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?” I just hate having my picture taken, especially a state-mandated photo. It just feels so mug-shottish to me (not that I would know what that feels like—I’ve never gone to jail. Yet, anyway.) And the guy who was calling the numbers just seemed so mean and official. Yet, when #10 was called and I walked over with my head down, like I was walking to stand before the firing squad, I blurted out, “I AM SO NERVOUS YOU GUYS LIKE I AM AT THE DENTIST” to the man and the women sitting at the desks behind him. They looked at me with these twisted faces of confusion and then just the man asked, “What, why?” My anxiety sometimes trumps my social filter and I suddenly become giddily & inexplicably chatty. I explained that I just hate having my picture taken, and then I tried to get the guy and one of the photo-takers to feel my clammy hands, but they declined. Then when my license was printed and laminated or whatever it is they do back there in secret, the guy who I thought was going to be super stern and impenetrable poked his head out and in a sweetly chiding sing-song tone called out, “Oh, Erin!” and everyone around us chuckled because, well, oh Erin.
    • I hate my new picture. I have never really hated any of my licenses, but I hate this one because they changed the format and now it’s even more of a close-up so now my license is like ALL ERIN. SO MUCH ERIN. And also I was bullied by the photo lady to pick the second picture she took because my smile looked “more real” in that one which just means I look like a fucking doof because my smile is terrible! (And not because of my teeth—because of my stupidly crooked/chubby face.
  • Hey, speaking of dentists and teeth! Guess what else I did? I made an appointment with a new dentist. Wait, let me back up. A few weeks ago, I called my dentist to make a long overdue appointment. So what happened was, my dentist moved into an office with some other dentist and severely cut back her hours, and on top of that the other dentist’s receptionist is like, the worst. She was so hard to work with that all of my calls would end up with me frustrated and saying I would just call back. So three years went by and in the meantime, I started to feel like my teeth were shifting and then I was having nightmares about losing teeth (YES I KNOW THAT MEANS A THING, SHUT IT) and finally I reasoned with myself that my mom had spent a shit ton of money on my teeth (I’m not kidding — I had braces for like 8 years and my orthodontists actually tried something new on me which was a success and then got to use my x-rays, etc at Orthodontics conventions for years after that) so I should probably get myself in that chair before it was all done in vain. And when I called, that awful receptionist said to me in her nasally whine, “Oh, the doctor is actually retiring in two weeks.” So this is the point in the phone call where my voice started to escalate in volume and my heart was beating rapidly and the whole script I had mentally prepared flew out the window along with 30 years of (mostly fond) dental memories. SHE WAS THE BEST DENTIST EVER. And she was practically the only dentist I had ever known too: I started going to her in 5th grade after my original dentist DR. LEDONNE THE SADIST completely fucked up my teeth (hence the 8 years of braces I endured, god bless the Good Brothers for fixing that asshole’s mess). Anyway, the only appointment she had available did not work for me at all so I screeched, “I WILL HAVE TO CALL BACK” and what I did instead was call Henry and continue screeching, “DR AMMONS IS RETIRED WHAT THE FUCK” and Henry was all, “Are you fucking kidding me” and I was like “I KNOW RIGHT” and he was like, “No, I’m talking about your reaction. You need to calm down. We’ll find you a new dentist.” I cried about how she is the only dentist I’ve ever known and Henry snidely said, “Well, you better get to know a new one.” But you don’t understand. Dr. Ammons was patient with me. She pandered to my neuroses. Her hygenists loved to kid around with me and when I would walk into the hallway of exam rooms they would jokingly say, “Erin’s here!” And before you even SUGGEST that I just start going to the dentist whose office Dr. Ammons was sharing, let me just say that I went to him once out of desperation and he had entirely too much football memorabilia in his exam room and I shouldn’t have to look at that shit while I’m already enduring so much trauma.
    • I hadn’t even set my purse down yet at my desk before I was practically wailing about my latest dilemma to everyone at work. Glenn was just like, “So find a new dentist.” OH WOW WHAT A GREAT SOLUTION, GENIUS. I mean, my hysterics even drove people out of their offices to see what the hell was going on and by people I just mean Lori because really no one else in the offices on our side of the floor give a shit about my tragedies because apparently they’re not “tragedy”-y enough I guess. But thankfully Lori and Lauren cared and were trying to stroke my nervous breakdown back to sleep. “I just went to the dentist yesterday,” Glenn said. OK GREAT JOB GOOD FOR YOU GLENN! God! So I asked him where his dentist is and he casually said “North Hills” and I live in the South Hills! If you’re not from Pittsburgh, you wouldn’t understand, but residents of the two Hills hate when they have to to go to the other Hills. So this was not helpful to me at all!! In the middle of all this, Amber had been quietly listening to this play out from her desk a few rows back, and she sent me an email that simply said “Dentist Recommendation” in the subject line. Amber to the rescue as always! Some of you might remember that she is also the one who found me an eye doctor two years ago when my eyes were hurting me so bad that I was basically crying at my desk and walking into walls, and then she MADE ME CALL AND MAKE AN APPOINTMENT. Amber could be a life coach, you guys. She really could.
      • So back to my original bullet up there: I called Amber’s dentist and made an appointment and then I called my soon-to-be old dentist and suffered through the last conversation I’ll ever have with that awful receptionist and within an hour, I was picking up my records and now I’m all set for my appointment in two weeks and OMG I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I HAVE A DENTIST APPOINTMENT AND NOW MY STOMACH HURTS.

 

There were some nice moments too which I’ll write about later, but mostly it was just all of the above and a lot of me saying, “I’M SO BORED LET’S DO SOMETHING” and then Henry would say, “We are doing something, it’s called ‘not working.'” Wow, I never realized how much I depend on my job for socialization and entertainment. I’ll have to remind myself of that the next time I fantasize of being a housewife. (And also probably remind myself of the cooking and cleaning that comes along with being a housewife.)

  One Response to “Stupid Staycation Errands”

  1. “And before you even SUGGEST that I just start going to the dentist whose office Dr. Ammons was sharing, let me just say that I went to him once out of desperation and he had entirely too much football memorabilia in his exam room and I shouldn’t have to look at that shit while I’m already enduring so much trauma.”

    I agree entirely with this rationale. This is a perfectly viable reason for never patronizing this dentist again. No need to force that on PATIENTS.

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